Breakthrough
by fleeterberry
Summary: Something upsets John and he turns to Joss for comfort. Short little fluff piece, COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Breakthrough

Spoilers: Nothing in particular

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Part One

With the constant level of exhaustion from being a mom and a cop and freelance work helping John and Finch save the world, there was one thing Joss could count on. Every night when she finally fell into bed a little after midnight, she would sleep soundly straight through until her alarm clock wrenched her unhappily back to consciousness at six. Blinking in confusion at the numbers on the clock, she wondered why she was suddenly wide awake smack dab in the middle of her brief respite from stress. She listened for a moment for an out of place noise, something that might explain it, but the apartment was quiet, no sounds coming from Taylor's room through the shared wall. With a sigh, she rolled over and closed her eyes.

Only to have them pop open before they were fully closed.

She wasn't alone. She absolutely knew someone was there.

Her hand reached automatically for her gun on the nightstand, but froze before she grabbed it. She squinted at the deep shadow in the hallway just outside her bedroom door. She wasn't alone, but she wasn't in any danger either.

There wasn't a bit of fear left in her as she glared into the darkness. "Are you trying to get shot, John?"

"Sorry."

She switched on the lamp next to her bed, curious at his quiet apology in place of the sarcastic response she'd expected. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she realized something was wrong. Something besides whatever had driven him to break into her home in the middle of the night. She took in his rumpled suit, his haggard expression, and, finally, the smears of blood across his shirt. Before she could even manage to sit up, he crossed the distance between them, more or less collapsing onto the side of her bed.

Her hand moved to his chest, searching for the source of the blood. "John, what happened? How bad is it?" She managed to sit up and pull his jacket off one shoulder. "Where are you hurt?"

He barely seemed to notice her actions as he slowly processed her words. "I'm ok."

"Like hell, John, you're bleeding." She touched his cheek and found his skin was cool to the touch. "I think you're in shock." Unable to find any obvious holes in his shirt to explain the blood, she reached for the buttons.

His hand closed over hers, still her movements. "It's not mine." Rather than releasing her, his hand remained tightly curled around hers.

She found she was far more nervous about his uncharacteristic behavior than she had been over his potential physical injuries. Hell, she knew he could recover from just about anything physically. His emotional state, however, that was another matter altogether. She knew it was tenuous on a good day. But this – this reminded her of the lost, wounded way he'd acted when Finch had been kidnapped.

She leaned forward, trying to catch his unfocused eyes. "Is Finch ok?"

He turned toward her, his eyes finally finding hers. "He's fine." He looked away again, his eyes falling to the floor, everything about him saying something was very, very wrong despite his assurances to the contrary.

Shifting her hand around in his, she returned his fierce grip. "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, Joss knew he was fighting back tears. The pain that reflected on his face was palpable, making her have to fight back the tears herself. She couldn't imagine what had happened to impact him so much. Her free hand moved to his jaw, sliding to his cheek until she could turn him to face her.

His eyes opened and met hers. "I'm ok." He squeezed her hand and she watched the resolve pass over his face. "I'm sorry to bother you." He stood suddenly. "I shouldn't have come here."

"John, wait!" She jumped up, unwilling, unable, to let him leave so easily when he had obviously sought her out for a reason. If he was looking for someone to confide in, someone who would comfort him, she wouldn't refuse him. She'd been waiting for him to open up to her the entire time she'd known him and had concluded he didn't open up to anyone ever. She'd been trying to prove herself worthy of being the exception for too long to pass up the opportunity that presented itself. Besides, he was her friend and she hated to see him in pain.

The fact that he stopped at her words only reassured her that it was the right thing to do. Taking hold of his hand, she pulled him back toward the bed. "Sit down and tell me what's going on. Talk to me, John, please."

He sat down as requested and sighed heavily. "It's nothing, Carter, really."

She took a seat beside him, folding her leg so she could sit facing him. "How many times have you broken into my apartment in the middle of the night to watch me sleep?"

He glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and an unconvincing flirtatious smile.

Not about to let him dodge, she shook her head. "I'm not buying that. How long were you here before I woke up? I'd bet less than a minute."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in recognition. He shifted the slightest bit toward her and pulled his jacket the rest of the way off. He was giving in, she realized, resigning himself to be vulnerable and peeling off the suit coat that acted as a protective barrier was part of that. He held the jacket on his lap, his fingers fumbling with the fabric. Whenever they met in a diner, he'd do the same thing with napkins, his nervous tell. She placed her hands over his, stilling their motion.

"I was trying to protect this woman today. Last couple of days. She was a paralegal, worked at a big firm downtown, single mom with three little girls, working too hard." He stopped for a second, taking a deep breath to slow the words that were tumbling out in a fashion so unlike him. "She found something that didn't add up in some of the paperwork and, damn it, Carter, she just wouldn't let it go." His voice started to choke up and rather than continue he stopped again as he fought the tears in his eyes and his voice. His wet eyes darted to hers, but only for a beat before he looked away. "I tried to warn her. I tried to stop her. She had no idea what she was up against." His hands balled into fists beneath hers and she could feel the anger welling up in him. "She was so fucking stubborn, wouldn't listen to a damn thing I said. She was in over her head but she said she could handle it." He shook his head, the movement finally breaking the tears free to run down his cheeks. "I couldn't protect her, I couldn't get there in time. They got to her."

"Oh, John, I'm sorry." Her hand moved to his hair, running through the short strands, trying to offer him comfort as best she could. She knew he'd lost clients before, though, and she wanted to ask what was different about this one, but she didn't want to pry, not when he was actually opening up to her on his own.

"She was still alive when I found her, but there were nothing I could do." He looked at her again, unashamed of the tears on his face, and swallowed hard. "She reminded me so much of you, Joss, she died in my arms and I- I just- I couldn't- I-"

"Shhhh, don't." She leaned forward and hugged him, understanding what it was that had gotten to him, what had driven him to visit her, what had left him so devastated. In his mind, it hadn't been some client he'd lost that night. It had been his friend. The agony she was witnessing was his reaction to losing her. It took her breath away.

His arms wrapped around her in a heartbeat, crushing her to him, one hand threading through her hair, cupping the back of her head, pressing her face against his. His lips moved next to her ear. "I just needed to see you, to make sure you were ok."

"I know, it's ok." She felt his arms loosening, and reluctantly let her own release him. "I'm glad you're here."

He turned away, his arms withdrawing, his walls going right back up. "Thanks for listening. I'm sorry I woke you."

Desperate to keep him there, knowing how fragile he was even though he was pretending everything was better, she stood up with him. "You're a mess, you're exhausted, and you look like hell. Stay here."

The fact that he glanced at her without comment revealed exactly how much he wanted to take her up on her offer.

She continued, taking the jacket from his hands. "Go take a shower, you'll feel better." There wasn't anything she could do about his suit, but she figured washing the blood off his shirt might help. "Give me your shirt, I'll put it in the wash."

"Carter-"

She knew he was going to try to backpedal, to put more space between them until he was feeling better, but she knew he wanted to stay as much as she wanted him to stay. "Go, shower. I'll find you something to wear."

"What could you possibly have that I can fit into?" His eyes moved down to the tank and boxers she was wearing as though he'd just noticed.

"Taylor-"

He cut her off before she could continue. "Is five foot eight, Carter."

She ignored his interruption. "Has a friend who left his bag here the other night."

John said nothing. His expression said it all. Apparently he thought all seventeen-year-olds were as short as her son.

"Josh is six five and built like a linebacker. His clothes will be big on you."

He started unbuttoning his shirt as he headed for the bathroom, handing her his dress shirt and tee-shirt before she had to ask again. He caught her hand as he stepped into the small room. "Thank you."

She nodded. She knew what it took for him to admit weakness, to come to her in the first place, and now, to thank her for helping him, it was too much. All kinds of lines were being crossed tonight and she didn't want to scare him away by holding him and refusing to let go. "Clean towels are in the cabinet."

As soon as she heard the shower running, she found Josh's duffel bag in the living room. Luckily she'd been right about Josh having something John could wear. There was a pair of sweatpants that seemed relatively clean, although the boy's shirts were a different story altogether. She left the pants on the floor outside the bathroom and then tossed John's shirts in the washer. The shower shut off just as she finished putting in the detergent, alerting her to the fact that a gorgeous, freshly-showered, shirtless man was about to emerge from her bathroom looking for a place to sleep. She considered the couch, imagined John's tall frame folded uncomfortably and how Taylor would find him there in the morning. And then there was the fact that John had gone to her seeking the comfort of seeing her alive and well and making him sleep alone on the couch would defeat the purpose of having him there at all.

At least, that's what she told herself. It was easier than admitting the alternative – that she wanted him to stay with her.

He met her in the hall, Josh's sweats larger than she'd anticipated. She was used to seeing him in his suits, which she suddenly realized added considerable bulk to his frame. He was thinner than she'd expected and boasted far fewer scars than she'd imagined. In fact, without his armor, he looked like a perfectly normal guy.

An unbelievably beautiful man, but just a man nonetheless. A man who'd had a really bad day and had sought out his friend for help. No chance in hell was she letting him sleep on the couch, even if she had to hold him at gunpoint.

"Feel better?"

He nodded obligingly, though he seemed a bit nervous. He took a step toward the living room, stopping when he realized she wasn't moving out of the way. "Joss?"

"Bedroom's that way." She nodded behind him, waiting for a teasing remark or innuendo or even just a smirk. The look on his face indicated that he had a whole list of them at the ready as usual, but he said nothing. He followed her mutely into the bedroom, hesitating at the door. She knew he was recalling the last time they'd faced a bed and the possibility of sharing it – because she was doing the same thing. Unlike that trip to Texas, however, she had absolutely no intention of asking him to sleep on the floor. Although, if she were being honest, she probably wouldn't have refused to share the bed with him then either if he'd asked. The real difference was that neither of them was even bothering to pretend this time.

He waited for her to switch off the lamp and retake her place before he finally, carefully took the spot beside her. She waited for the stifling awkwardness to settle around them, waited for something that would give John an excuse to leave after all, waited for some sense of dread to rise up when she realized she was trying to platonically share a bed with a man to whom she was violently attracted, the very same man who'd never had a bad idea in which he couldn't convince her to participate. But there was no discomfort, just a sense of peace in the fact that John was there with her, safe and sound and close enough to touch. He wasn't a charming criminal trying to make her do something that would make her feel guilty. No, he was her friend, stripped of all his defenses, letting her see how much he truly cared about her, how much she meant to him.

She wasn't prepared for the emotions to surge in her, to be so overwhelmed with love for him that tears filled her eyes. She'd known for a long time that she'd broken through his armor, but until this moment, she'd failed to really understand what that meant.

He loved her. Loved her in such a way as to make himself completely vulnerable.

And she realized with breathtaking clarity that she loved him every bit as much.

She knew he was still wide awake and there was no way he'd miss that she was crying, so she didn't bother trying to hide it. He would never think less of her for it; he'd never think less of her for anything. She rolled over to face him, seeing the way he was lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was trying to ignore her, trying to deny that she was right there, probably trying to remind himself not to touch her like he'd naturally assume she wanted. But something he couldn't possibly know had changed and the last thing she wanted was for him to keep his hands to himself.

"John?" Her voice was thick with tears and he responded the way she'd known he would. He turned toward her, concern and fear and guilt all over his face. She grabbed his hand before he could conclude that she was upset about his presence. Knowing every second of delay caused him pain, she squeezed his hand and smiled. "Thank you."

He wasn't sure what she was talking about and that uncertainty reflected on his face before a hint of wariness appeared in his eyes. "For what?"

"For coming here. For trusting me." It was too soon, too frightening for her to spell out her recent revelation, but she suspected her feelings would reflect in her eyes once the tears cleared, the same way his feelings always had. She hadn't known what to make of them, or even what those feeling actually were, but she'd known he couldn't hide that he felt something for her.

The little guard that had gathered in his expression was gone at her words and he squeezed her hand back. "Didn't really have much of a choice in the matter."

"Tell me about it." She grinned at him, reveling in the intimacy of the moment, lying together in the dark, talking about the connection they shared. She held his eyes and mentally reset everything she knew about the man. This wasn't just the way he looked at her. This was the way he looked at the woman he loved. But she knew he was deeply wounded by everything he'd been through and suspected he'd reject any overture she might make.

Still, she found herself shifting closer, letting go of his hand in favor of stretching her arm across his bare stomach. He didn't rebuff her as she feared. He waited a moment and, when she remained still, moved his arm around her, his hand weaving into her hair, holding her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating under her ear, slow and steady and quite possibly the most comforting sound in the world. There wasn't even time to be nervous, being close to him made her sleep like a baby.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

It seemed like only a moment later that his voice was in her ear. "Joss, wake up."

She groaned unhappily, turning her face into his chest. "It's too early to get up." She wasn't about to complain about the visit, but the man had interrupted the precious little sleep she usually got.

"Joss, Taylor's awake." The slow heartbeat that had lulled her to sleep was much faster, revealing his fear.

"He won't come in here. Go back to sleep."

"How can you be sure?"

"He has a chemistry test today. He gets up early to study." Although, she thought, if the boy wanted to understand chemistry, he need only open the door. But John was still tense and concern over his upset would keep her from falling back to sleep. "What are you so worried about? He's seventeen, not seven."

Propping herself up, she was momentarily distracted both by how comfortable she felt and by the intimacy of their positions. "He likes you. You're the badass that saved his life, remember?"

"I'm in bed with his mother. Good will for saving his life will only go so far." His eyes darted toward the door as though Taylor was a three-year-old who might charge in unannounced at any second.

"Even if he did come in, John, we're still dressed." She took a moment to look at him, his anxiety unhidden by his normal blank mask, and involuntarily started to smile. He was really worried that her son might lose respect for him over it. He was really worried about her son's opinion of him. If she hadn't already realized how much John loved her, this behavior would have told her.

"What are you laughing at?" His worry over Taylor was replaced with suspicion.

"I'm not laughing, I'm smiling." Since the man had suddenly become an open book to her, she thought it was only fair that she reveal a little bit of herself as well. "And I'm smiling at you."

Try as he might to fight it, a grin steadily made its way across his face. "Why?"

"Because you actually give a damn about what my teenaged son thinks of you. It's adorable."

He looked thoroughly confused, as though he really didn't know what to make of her comment. "I don't think anyone has ever called me adorable before." But his eyes darted away from hers toward the door again, the confusion fading behind the worry once again.

"Maybe not to your face." With a sigh and the realization that John wasn't going to let it go, she shook her head. "Do you want me to run interference?"

He nodded eagerly. "Keep him busy for a minute and I'll be out of your hair." He tried to sit up, but Joss put her hand flat on his chest.

"No, you're not going anywhere. I'll keep him from coming in here, but then I'm coming back and we're going to back sleep, got it?"

It was hard for her to identify just what was going thought his mind, considering there were about a hundred emotions vying for prominence on his face. Eventually he settled on hopeful, but wary, letting her see that the idea she wanted to snuggle with him seemed too good to be true.

But, as usual, the cocky smirk replaced any vulnerability. Not that she could blame him, she had insisted he stay in her bed and wait for her. Opportunities like this didn't come around that often and she wasn't going to let it slip away without a fight. She could see the myriad of responses that flitted through his mind, but he said nothing, and though she tried to tell herself there were a million reasons he might have chosen not to speak, Joss decided it was because he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Even knowing he was staying, however, she still didn't want to get up.

And, as usual, the moment he noticed her hesitance, he couldn't resist. "Weren't you going somewhere?"

"I'll have you know I'm really quite comfortable right now and I'm only considering getting up as a favor to you. A big favor. I expect you to repay me handsomely for this."

"Oh, I will." He grinned as his hand played along her back. "If you ever actually do me the favor."

His annoying smirk finally outweighed both the endearing way he'd sought her out for comfort and her incredible level of contentment she'd found snuggled into his side and she sat up. She wanted to pull self-consciously at her shorts to fix the way they'd ridden up during the night but she refused to give in. She didn't want to reveal anything that might make him think she was the slightest bit uncomfortable around him, not even if it were something as silly as attempting to hide her cellulite from him. God forbid the man misread it and think she didn't want him looking. She wanted him to look. And touch.

But first things first. She'd offered to make sure Taylor had no idea someone was in her bed, despite knowing her son would never come into her room unannounced, and she agreed with the premise. Whatever was happening, which might be happening only in her imagination, it was best that Taylor not know anything about it until she actually figured it out herself. Climbing to her feet, she shivered at the loss of heat from John's body.

She paused at the door, looking over at the sight of John lying half-dressed on her bed. "You're not going to sneak out the fire escape when I leave the room, are you?"

He looked at her, thoroughly looked at her, his eyes slowly drifting over her body from head to toe and back up. "I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Though she tried to hide it from John, there was no chance Taylor would miss the self-satisfied grin on her face. Especially since she couldn't quite find the energy to care that she couldn't stop grinning.

She knocked on Taylor's door and waited for him to respond before she opened it, the very same way she'd taught him. "Hey, baby, I know you have that big test today. Want me to make you some breakfast?"

"Sounds good." He glanced up from his textbook to check the clock on his desk. "I've got fifteen more minutes to study, then I'll be ready."

Shaking her head, she chuckled. "I think I need a DNA test. No way you got that bookworm thing from me or your dad."

"I have to study if you want me to go to Harvard."

"I don't want, I expect, and a full scholarship too. Get back to work." She closed the door behind herself. Though she still joked about it with him, college was looming on the horizon and she dreaded the day her baby would leave. She wasn't about to limit his dreams and thus, despite an infinite preference that he choose a college in New York, she would support any decision he made. Besides, Harvard was definitely closer than somewhere on the west coast.

She got to work in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and frying bacon and making coffee. On a normal day, she would have just poured some cereal in a bowl, but on a normal day, she would have been running too late to make anything substantial. Bright as he was, Taylor raised an eyebrow at the meal when he emerged from his room, offering her a smirk as he dug in.

"What?" She had a death grip on her coffee mug and her immovable grin firmly entrenched on her face, but besides that she thought she was doing an admirable job of appearing perfectly normal.

"You going to tell me about him?"

She narrowed her eyes. There was no way he knew. None. He had to be bluffing, so she had to call him on it. "Tell you about who?"

"Your new boyfriend.

"I don't have a boyfriend." There, that was perfectly accurate.

"Tell me or I'll go in your bedroom and introduce myself."

He knew. How the fuck he knew was beyond her, but he did. And suddenly she wasn't all that certain he wouldn't barge right into her room and threaten to beat the crap out of John if his intentions weren't honorable. Of course, if Taylor found John in her bed, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be the only Carter with an irrepressible grin. Taylor's brief time with John had left an impression. Hero worship was the term she'd use if pressed.

Shaking her head, she stopped trying to fight the grin. "It's not like that, T."

"Mom, I'm a big boy. Don't lie." He dropped his fork, much more interested in what she had to say than his breakfast.

"I'm not lying, it's really not like that." She took a deep breath and set her mug down. "He had a really bad day at work and he was upset, so he came here and he slept in my bed, but I'm telling you, it's not what you're thinking." She really didn't want to get into a discussion of her sex life, or lack thereof, with her son, but she knew if she didn't address it, Taylor would get all sorts of other ideas in his head which would be so much worse.

"Please, mom? Just be honest. If he's that important to you, I think I should know about him."

The grin was totally gone, her good mood erased by the implication that she was lying. "Taylor, I'm a grown ass woman who is actually having this conversation with her son. Why wouldn't I be telling you the truth?"

Taylor shrugged and pushed his eggs around on the plate for a moment before he took a breath and met her eyes. "Because he left his pants in the bathroom."

She wanted to bury her face in her hands and groan. Instead, she didn't blink. "And I told you, it's not like that."

With a grimace, Taylor looked toward the hall. "Do I need to Lysol the bathroom before I go in there? I mean, that's shared space, mom."

"Taylor!" She took a moment to tamp down her desire to yell at the boy, realizing that he was upset at having been left out of something he believed to be a big development in her life. "He's a friend, Taylor, and like I said, he was upset. He took a shower and I gave him Josh's sweatpants to wear to bed."

Taylor's eyes immediately went to the spot next to the front door where Josh's duffel had been, finding visual confirmation that Josh's bag was opened. "So he's tall, what else?"

Joss squeezed her eyes closed. The conversation had already gone from bad to worse and she really didn't want to bother having it since there was no new boyfriend. "Maybe you should worry about your test and less about my nonexistent boyfriend."

Taylor glanced back and forth between her and his plate before he finally shrugged and stood up, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. He met her eyes again and a wide grin broke out on his face. "Looks like he exists to me."

Balling her hands into fists, she took a deep breath and promised herself she wasn't going to kill either one of the two most important men in her life. Of course John had snuck up behind her while she was too engrossed with her son to notice. "I swear, John, after all that bullshit about worrying about Taylor's opinion, you have the nerve to come out here-"

"It didn't sound like it was going all that well." He moved just as silently as he had appeared in the kitchen, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of coffee like he'd been there a million times.

"We'll discuss this later, Taylor." She called to the boy who seemed quite pleased with the turn of events.

"I'll call before I come home. Or you can just leave a sock on the door or something."

She didn't know who to glare at, still irritated with both of them despite the happy expression on Taylor's face as he left for school. "John, you promised."

He had the sense to look sheepish. "I smelled coffee."

Not sure if she was more upset over Taylor thinking he'd found something out that wasn't true or by the fact that there would be no more cuddling, Joss folded her arms over her chest and frowned. She'd really been looking forward to crawling back into bed with the man, but she didn't want to reveal how disappointed she was, certainly not to the man who'd given up the comfortable bed in favor of a mediocre cup of coffee.

Reaching for Taylor's abandoned plate, she started to scrape the food into the garbage disposal but John's hands moved around her, took the plate, and dropped it in the sink. "Dishes can wait."

She remained perfectly still, trying to figure out what to do. Yes, she'd fully intended to climb back into bed with the man and go back to sleep when she'd left the room. Maybe she would have done so. No, she wasn't honestly the least bit surprised that he had backed out of a potentially uncomfortable situation before it had the opportunity to actually be awkward.

But now they were wide awake, standing in her kitchen, and John's hands were resting on the counter on either side of her. She turned her head slightly to the side, her eyes tracing the lines of his arm up to his shoulder when she promptly remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt. Her head snapped back to face forward and she mentally tried to prepare a list of pros and cons regarding every possibility for what he was planning.

Except that his voice at her ear rendered her brain senseless.

"I'm sorry I broke my promise, Joss. Let me make it up to you."

She was fairly certain her heart stopped. She'd known the man for years, had flirted with him at every meeting. Was it possible that he was finally willing to take it somewhere? He'd spent the night holding her. He'd walked into the kitchen knowing exactly what Taylor would think. He'd moved his hands from the counter to her hips. He'd obviously made his decision. It was clearly more than possible. It was happening.

She had to make her decision quickly – to let this move forward or to gently reign it back into the friendship they'd shared for years. She'd already put so much on the line for John and now he was asking for more. He wanted her to trust him completely, with her heart and her family and whatever tiny pieces of her life she hadn't yet turned over to him.

And though he was asking, there really was no point. She'd already given her heart to him, long before she even realized it.

She turned around to face him, recognizing his distress in the way his hands dropped to his sides as he backed up. He thought he was being rebuffed and she hated the hurt that flashed across his face. Stepping forward, she backed him against the opposite counter and put her hands on his bare chest. Rather than his typical blank mask, his face was open, revealing, vulnerable. He was unsure of himself for possibly the first time since they'd met and, for once, she understood him. He loved her and a change in their relationship had the potential to destabilize his whole world. He didn't do anything halfway; he always jumped in with both feet. But he wanted this, wanted her, and he was willing to open himself up to getting hurt in order to try. He was taking a chance on her, a chance he rarely took, just like when they'd met. And this time, she was going to reward him.

Leaning against him, she felt the moment he relaxed into it, his hands finding her hips again. She grinned at him, loving that she was the reason for the happy, playful look in his eyes.

"So how exactly were you planning on making it up to me?"

The smirk reappeared as his hands slowly slid up her sides, eventually finding their way to her cheeks. "I have a few ideas."

"Then maybe you should tell me about them." Despite the sudden change in their relationship and the ramifications it would have on every aspect of her life, she wasn't the least bit nervous or scared or uncertain. She was perfectly relaxed as John leaned down.

"I'd rather show you." His eyes were twinkling with happiness as his breath fell against her lips. His mouth was gentle, but determined, his kiss so thorough she couldn't help but shiver at the thought of how thorough he'd be with everything else. It came with the intensity, she imagined, and John was an all-in kind of guy. She was out of breath when he let her up and she fell heavily against his chest, inhaling the scent of him so close.

"Why do I suspect I'm going to be late for work today?"

"Late?" He reached for her chin, turning her to face him so he could kiss her again. "You're calling out sick."

"Oh, really?" The butterflies in her stomach started dancing in anticipation.

His voice was a low rumble that she felt as much as heard. "We can't stay in bed all day if you go to work, Joss."

Suddenly the idea of finding her phone to call out seemed like too much work. "Fusco will cover for me."

He grinned at her for a moment, evidently quite pleased with the way she hadn't bothered to resist. And a second later, she squealed with delight when he threw her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bedroom.

Epilogue

It was late that afternoon when the slamming of the front door roused Joss from a well-earned nap in John's protective arms. Her eyes darted to the clock, shocked to realize that it was after four, even more shocked to realize that she and John really had stayed in bed all day.

"John?" She leaned up, loving the relaxed way he looked. "Taylor's home."

"You said he wouldn't come in here and after this morning, I believe you." He didn't seem the slightest bit concerned now.

Hearing the refrigerator door open and close, Joss knew her son's next stop. "Did you ever get your pants out of the bathroom?"

His wide eyes told her he hadn't.

Shaking her head, she laughed. "Did you skip the CIA training on covert?"

"I didn't realize we were trying to be covert." His hand moved up to stroke her cheek. "Besides, someone distracted me."

"So I'm a distraction now?"

"You always have been, Joss."

She couldn't talk around the stubborn smile that formed at his words, a smile she suspected was going to be there for a very long time.

And a moment later, when Taylor discovered John's pants with a loud groan, she could only laugh.


End file.
